Diamonds Are This Girl’s Best Cancer-Fighting Friend

Health Envoy's Blog
By Randi Rentz



In April 2008, while packing up my father’s belongings after his passing, I suddenly felt stabbing pain in my left breast. It was a strange feeling, but I disregarded it, assuming it was a dislocated rib, until the pain happened again — four times in three days.
As an educator and consultant, researching facts is part of my job. I assured myself that breast cancer doesn’t typically hurt and that the pain in my breast was simply from dense tissue I had developed as a result of drinking way too much caffeine. I decided to have it checked out anyway, just to be sure.
My chiropractor ruled out the dislocated rib theory and my gynecologist assured me that it was probably nothing, but referred me for a mammogram and ultrasound just in case.
And it’s a good thing he did.

Lesson 1: Advocate for Yourself

I knew there was a problem when I felt the lump at the 6 o’clock position in my breast. Although the mammogram was clean, and the radiologist said, “You are good to go,” I insisted on having an ultrasound. When the radiologist smeared the gel and moved the wand over the area of concern, fear began to grow in my mind.
“Go get this aspirated immediately by a breast surgeon,” the radiologist said. “It looks like there is gunk in there and I don’t know what it is.”
“Gunk? Is that a new medical term?” I wondered. I found myself feeling like a deer in headlights. As an autism consultant, I know that parents forget virtually everything that comes after hearing “Your child has autism,” so I instinctively knew that I needed to write everything down. I could see my hands shaking as I reached in my handbag for my leather-bound journal, and I could feel my voice begin to crack. In an instant, my world came to a halt. I needed the number for a breast surgeon and I needed it NOW.
A week after the aspiration, I learned that the form of cancer I had was treatable and, ultimately, I would be fine. As the caretaker for both of my parents, I had an exceptionally unique perspective, one that allowed me to realize my diagnosis could be much worse.
That’s not to say that I wasn’t stunned and knocked off my rocker. At 42 years old, I was a healthy, happy, exercise enthusiast with no first-degree family history of breast cancer. Heaven knows I dropped quite a few F-bombs after my diagnosis.

Lesson 2: Look for Shining Moments in Cancerville

I won’t mince words: Cancer treatment was brutal. But I was grateful for the supportive team of people (both personal and professional) who cared for me.
I was able to get through this period by looking for shining moments in my life. I also wore my mother’s diamond stud earrings for daily courage and strength, which  helped me glitter and shimmer my way through Cancerville. While they didn’t take away the awful side effects of chemotherapy, they did help provide me with balance and perspective.
Here’s the thing: When you have cancer, shining moments come in small and big packages – from sitting in my bedroom and watching a red-breasted robin on my balcony (because I was too sick to stand) to being cancer-free (after enduring the longest and most painful year of my life). I know that hope (in the form of shining moments) is always present. All I had to do was look for it.

I didn’t let my illness stop me from meeting significant goals. Halfway through my chemo treatments (when getting from my bathroom to my bed was often a herculean task), I decided I would do something very physical, every year, on the anniversary of my diagnosis. I saw it as a major shining moment — a way to celebrate my health on the exact day that it evaporated. So on my first “Cancerversary,” I ran a 5K wearing my diamond studs, and cried tears of joy as I crossed the finish line.

Lesson 3: It Takes a Village

I began writing early on in my journey. While I had written a few academic papers, I hadn’t had the opportunity to write about myself, but that soon changed. I started a blog, Why Buy a Wig…When You Can Buy Diamonds, as a way to keep people apprised of what was happening to me during treatment. I didn’t want my friends and family burdened with having to repeat stories over and over again. Why Buy a Wig… not only highlighted my personal experience with cancer, it became a source of information and inspiration for others.
1.   B-R-E-A-T-H-E. This sounds easy, I know, but after you hear the words, “You have cancer,” breathing takes a whole lot of work.
2.   Though the diagnosis feels like an emergency, it’s not. Breathe. You have time to understand the meaning and process your emotions.
3.    Learn everything you can about your diagnosis and treatment options, this way you can be fully engaged in the development (and revision) of your care.
4.    Build a team of caregivers and advisors, both personal (in the form of friends) as well as professional (in the form of healthcare providers). You know the phrase, “It takes a village?” Well, it definitely takes a village to get through cancer.
Randi Rentz is an autism support teacher in a school district outside Philadelphia, Penn, and she has her own consulting company for children on the autism spectrum.  Before becoming a special education teacher, she was an editorial assistant for a publishing company in suburban Washington, DC. You can follow her on Facebook and Twitter.

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